Friendships Die
by K.Hetalia
Summary: Inspired by Change isn't always good by JSHNGirl. The story takes place during WW2. Why? What's the purpose of a war? There's so much I have to understand, but things I do, I don't, and things I don't, I do. He was never like this. Why? A historical fiction, rated T for Violence, one-shot. [America/Japan] (P.S: If you can find another anime reference, you get 5 cookies)


**Friendships Die**

Red puddles formed before me. The beautiful scent of the ocean, replaced with the sour taste of rotten cheese, the ocean's salty water, now gone with a new scent of bitterness and hatred, the once blue sky, now dark, clouds covering the beautiful sun, the trees broken down to the ground, the former creamy-brown sand, now blending with the crimson red color.

_Blood_.

I just stood there, frozen stiff.

Blue eyes had widened, sandy blonde hair had began to stick unto my pale skin which became paler, small drops of sweat rolled down my forehead, the military uniform I once wore with my bomber jacket soaked in its stench and red splats, resembling death.

And apparently so, it had no effect on me. But why did I react this way? It never really meant anything to me. Was it because it was harder than last time? _Harder_ from what I had experienced?

* * *

_"Hey Britain! I'm no longer a child, nor your brother! Consider me,_

**_INDEPENDENT_**_!"_

_"I won't allow it!_

_Idiot, why can't you follow anything through the end?!_

_Why…_

_Goddammit why?! It's not fair!"_

_"What happened to you? I remember you when you were great."_

* * *

It was war that he wanted.

_War_ they had wanted.

And _they_ had to lose.

To _die_.

It had been their fault this stupid war had occurred.

It just had to be World War 2.

What about the innocent people living in this world?

Did they deserve it?

Or did _we_ deserve to lose the people of our country? Our _world_?

Was it revenge? Nothing happened between the two of us. Curiosity? Boredom? Nothingness?

I paused. Was there anything I can do? I couldn't think. It was like someone had just stuffed my mind with cotton endlessly. I subconsciously moved slowly, stepping onto the bloody sand, increasing my pace, as I ran through all my memories.

_The Treaty of Paris, of course!_

* * *

_"So, why are we here again, Spain?" I asked, leaning on the ivory walls of France's office, as France sat on his chair, the shiny brown wooden table with papers on top of it, and an ink pen._

_ "The Treaty Of Paris. I believe you can do better than me to take care of Philippines." Spain replied casually, his emerald orbs hidden due to his closed eyelids._

_ "Why? Isn't she one of the countries with those cool resources? Why—"_

_ "They don't like my army, I believe- Like I said, you can do better. I'm sure England has taught you well," He replied with a smile implanted on his face._

_ "Oh well," I mumbled, "I don't have a choice anyway…"_

* * *

Was it because of Philippines that he declared war?

But that doesn't make any sense.

Why did he want to take her away from me?

Why didn't he do it when Spain was here?

Why me…

Why?

It never made sense, and I doubt it will in the future.

I treated her well, why wasn't she able to defend?

**_Why_** did I _abandon_ her…

Why.

It rang through my mind. I didn't even have a choice to begin with. Did World War 2 change him?

The silent, innocent, young version of him, now, a violent, dark, mature version? Was he just **_like_** me, when I was with England?

Where am I?

Was I in the past before World War 2?

Was I in the future after World War 2?

Or I was I never here to begin with?

I don't know anymore, I **didn't** even know anything.

Would I make it?

Would I save her?

Would I be able to change them?

The once so friendly friends, now the brutal, morbid friends?

Would I break their shell, their façade in this war, to regain our friendship?

But friendships had always died.

I lost everyone close to me.

May it be someone part of my family, or may it be not, I lost everyone.

Who was I kidding?

I'm younger than him.

Forever will I be.

He almost murdered his own brother, like me.

We have so much in common, so why can't we just get along?

Is it because I'm too obnoxious as England calls me? Is it because I eat too much? Is because I'm fat? Is it because he's _nothing_ like me? Was that why he declared war indirectly at me, and Philippines?

_No. _That wasn't it.

Was it because I wasn't part of his team?

But was never my fault to begin with.

Did he bomb us, to prevent me from saving her? To prevent me from attacking _him_?

What's this, _Attack on Titan_?

He's the Titan, and I'm _Eren_?

Was I Eren because he was the hero? Was he the Titan because he was stronger?

Something suddenly snapped.

I know what to do.

I know _how_ to stop him.

* * *

I visited Philippines, my plans staying with me. I ordered them what to do. They couldn't do much, she was just young. I raised her well, and they obeyed. I quickly went back to my very own country, and we began our plan.

Of course, it wasn't the safest, but, it had to be done.

* * *

I didn't want to hurt him either. But he made it this way.

It was his fault to begin with. We didn't have much time. She couldn't handle everything on her own. We couldn't make everything so quickly. There was so much I still had to handle. I would be Annie, and he would be Eren. My plan was _unstoppable_.

I would be the strongest there ever would be, but that was just my dream.

Would I finally accomplish it?

Even if it meant _losing_ my friends?

Would I be able to handle to consequences?

Not even I knew.

We finally made it. Where would we aim it on? Here? There? This? That? Was there even time to decide? _No_. This was finally it. _Finally_ time to end this dream. This nightmare, this hell-hole world, to end everything.

* * *

_Red puddles formed before me. The beautiful scent of the ocean, replaced with the sour taste of rotten cheese, the ocean's salty water, now gone with a new scent of bitterness and hatred, the once blue sky, now dark, clouds covering the beautiful sun, the trees broken down to the ground, the former creamy-brown sand, now blending with the crimson red color._

He stood there, holding his katana in major pain, trying to balance well, biting his lips in agony, as I stood, grinning at my achievement.

"_Kuya_ America! You…you did it!"

His short jet black hair was ruffled from the impact, burns were all over his body.

_ "K…Kono…yaro…"_

I held out my shotgun, aiming at him and finally said,

"Game over_, Japan_."


End file.
